


The Little Things

by Jidders



Category: Avengers (Comic), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, Hulkeye - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 18:01:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jidders/pseuds/Jidders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce Banner is in the SHIELD labs, burning the midnight oil....or at least he would be, if only Clint would just be quiet!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Little Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tharhi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tharhi/gifts).



> Challenge:  
> Fandom: Avengers  
> Theme: Hulkeye

Bruce Banner had finally done it. It had been a long night of research, but after much toiling he was finally able to discern a new lead in better understanding his monstrous malady. Swiveling back in his chair, he massaged his shoulders briefly. He opened up a new word document at his SHIELD issued computer and began to draft an email to another hopeful gamma radiation specialist. As he contemplated the beginning of his inquiry, his hands hovered over the keyboard, until…

Shhhhhhyuk

He blinked…

Shhhhhhyuk

...and looked around…

Shhhhhhyuk

Where was that noise coming from? 

He paused and waited for the noise to persist, his eyes affixed to some invisible culprit hiding in the distance. One minute goes by, and nothing happens. Shrugging it off, he turns back to the task at hand. But then…

Shhhhhhyuk

He snapped up from his distracted ramblings, and slowly, calmly, pushed out his chair and began to follow the sound. It was obscenely late (or early?) in the SHIELD laboratories and he wasn’t expecting to see anyone anytime soon. However, as he followed the sound, it all began to make sense. Turning a corner, he saw Clint Barton, who had come in for some early target practice at the indoor range. Annoyed, Bruce noted that it was set up right next to the labs. He would have to have a conversation with Tony about this later.

Bruce conspicuously opened the glass door, making eye contact with Clint who was walking back from the target at the other end of the range.

“Um, yeah…Hi there,” Bruce stuttered as the man approached him. “I don’t mean to be a bother or anything, but I was hoping that you could, uh, practice a little bit later? It’s just that, I’m right in the middle of something, and the noise is getting a bit distracting...” He felt a familiar tinge of self-loathing bubble up as he listened to himself sputter out some lame command. Still, he was vaguely aware that Clint was one of the few that didn’t shy away from Hulk on and off the battlefield.

 

“Yeah, sure,” Clint shrugged as he picked up his bow and slung it over his shoulder. “I got other things to do.”

Bruce cracked a small, nervous smile, “Sorry about that, I really appreciate it.” He nodded towards Clint, then turned around and began walking back to the lab.

“Whatever,” Clint droned, following him to the adjacent room.

Returning to his desk, Bruce watched Clint casually saunter across the room and place his bow in a rack on the wall. He sighed inwardly as Clint removed a more complicated looking bow and began fiddling with it.

Bruce looked down at his clock. 6am—Why was Barton here so early? What adjustments did he have to make to his equipment that was so important that it couldn’t wait until normal business hours? No matter. He HAD quieted down some. Bruce resolved himself to the unspoken compromise. He would put up with Barton’s tinkering, since he had already forced the man out of the archery range in the first place.

Settling down again, Bruce hammered out a short letter to his prospective colleague. He smashed his finger down on the send button, deliberately focusing on the click-clack of his own keystrokes, rather than the creaking and squeaking that was emanating from the other side of the room. Pulling up another document, he continued to violently smash the keyboard as he began to summarize the night’s research. He smiled grimly. The force that he was applying to the keys gave him great glee, but as he continued to scan the documents in front of him, the heavier science was beginning to give him a migraine.

“Hey, so it sounds like you’re on a roll over there,” Barton chittered. Bruce glanced up to see Barton leaning back in his chair, bow on his lap. Barton continued, “Thats cool. It’s usually so quiet in here. Why do you think that is?”

“Gee, I just don’t know,” Bruce said, a slight edge in his voice. 

“Personally, I blame Fury. He’s got all the lab rats spooked. They’re all so scared they don’t do anything but bang out these superfluous gadgets.”

“Uh-huh,” Bruce responded automatically. His head throbbed as Barton set down his bow and began to rifle through the drawers of the workstation. 

“All the fuss they put into this shiny new bow; I’m going to be seriously miffed if it doesn’t deliver,” Barton complained absentmindedly. “Not like I need this new tech, I always hit my target.”

Bruce made a point to remain silent as he cradled his head and scanned his notes. Barton was bound to stop speaking if he didn’t have anyone who was willing to chat with him, right?

“Hey, you dead over there?” Barton asked. 

Guess not. Bruce sighed as he mentioned the pain blooming in his temples. 

Barton paused for a moment before raising his voice, “Uh, sorry, what was that?” 

“I said I have a headache!” Bruce matched his volume. 

“Oh,” Barton chuckled. He quickly rummaged through his drawers, and found a bottle tangled up with some bowstring. “Got some pills here,” he drawled, seeming way too pleased with himself, for reasons beyond Bruce’s comprehension.

“Two birds, one stone,” he said, yanking out the mess. Barton carefully removed the bottle from the string and jogged over to Bruce. 

Bruce took the bottle, slightly agitated by the whole ordeal. “Thanks,” he grunted, shaking out two tablets, throwing his head back as he swallowed them.

“No worries,” Barton laughed, slapping Bruce on the back and returning to his desk.

Bruce stifled a cough as the archer retreated. Sharing this space was getting to be slightly more aggravating than he had previously anticipated. That condescending pat on the back aside, why was Barton so chipper? And more importantly, why was he so insistent on working in the labs this early in the morning!? He glanced back at Barton who had begun to work on untangling the bowstring—no doubt for the bow he had been messing with earlier. The back of Bruce’s shoulder stung where he had been touched.

Whatever, he told himself, back to work. He turned to his notes. As he scanned the complicated formulas that were illustrated in the pages, he could feel Hulk writhing just beneath his temples. Hulk hated science.

No, not Hulk. It was his headache. From the noise. He sighed and began to rub his temples. He just needed to finish this chapter. Fatigue was catching up with him.

“Got it!” Barton exclaimed from across the room, holding up the entire length of the string that he had been fidgeting with. Picking up his bow again, he began to work on stringing it.

Bruce could feel his eyelid twitch slightly. Not a good sign. His aggravation began to grow as he watched Barton’s satisfied grin. He hadn’t gotten anything DONE yet. Why was he even here!?

Bruce paused. HE hadn’t gotten anything done either. And he wouldn’t if he kept on getting distracted by Barton. He returned to his document. So long as he kept his interactions with Barton to a minimum, everything would be fine.

Kshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhht

Bruce looked over to Barton who was fiddling with some sort of stringer machine.

“I know right!? This thing gets crazy-loud in the mornings,” he said. Bruce tapped his finger on his desk while he waited for Barton to finish.

After Barton was finished, he turned again to his work. It was his own fault. This was a shared space. He was used to working alone. Unfortunately, his research was too heavy to move around at the moment. His head began to throb again. Still, so help him if there was ONE MORE DISTRACTION…

KAthhhhhWACK!

All at once, Bruce swiveled out of his chair and slammed his hands on his desk, narrowly missing a deadly collision with his keyboard. He gritted his teeth as he turned raised his head. Fierce green eyes met distressed baby blues. 

“Heheh....minor derailment...” Barton uttered, gently placing his bow on the workbench to nurse a new welt that had cropped up on his arm.

“Barton,” he said slowly, taking in a deep breath. He was acutely aware of a frantic beeping going off in the distance.

“Yeah?”

“Get….OUARGH!”

Hulk slammed Banner’s research across the room as he jumped the desk to get to the confused archer. Picking up his older bow, Clint hightailed it out of there.

“HULK SMASH ALL OF SCIENCE ROOM!”

Bolting the door quickly, Clint couldn’t help but laugh at Hulk’s destruction, “You do that Hulk, I’m sure Banner wouldn’t mind at all.”


End file.
